Thyself and all that coward rabble,
T'encounter us in battle able?
How durst th', I say, oppose thy curship
'Gainst arms, authority, and worship?
And Hudibras, or me provoke,
Though all thy limbs were heart of oak,
And th' other half of thee as good
To bear out blows as that of wood?
Could not the whipping-post prevail
With all its rhet'ric, nor the jail,
To keep from flaying scourge thy skin,
And ancle free from iron gin?
Which now thou shalt-but first our care
Must see how Hudibras doth fare.
This said he gently rais'd the knight,
And set him on his bum upright:
To rouse him from lethargic dump,
He tweak'd his nose, with gentle thump
Knock'd on his breast, as if't had been
To raise the spirits lodg'd within.
They, waken'd with the noise, did fly
From inward room, to window-eye,
And gently op'ning lid the casement,
Look'd out, but yet with some amazement. 980
This gladded Ralpho much to see,
Who thus bespoke the knight: Quoth he,
Tweaking his nose, You are, great Sir,
A self-denying conqueror;
As high, victorious, and great,
As e'er fought for the churches yet,
If you will give yourself but leave
To make out what y' already have;
That's victory. The foe, for dread
Of your nine-worthiness has fled,
All, save Crowdero, for whose sake
You did th' espous'd cause undertake :
And he lies pris'ner at your feet,
To be disposed, as you think meet,
Either for life, or death, or sale,
The gallows, or perpetual jail.
For one wink of your pow'rful eye
Must sentence him to live or die.
His fiddle is your proper purchase,
Won in the service of the churches;
And by your doom must be allow'd
To be, or be no more a croud.
"At this the knight began to rouse,
And by degrees grow valorous.
He star'd about, and seeing none
Of all his foes remain, but one,
He snatch'd his weapon that lay near him,
And from the ground began to rear him:
Vowing to make Crowdero pay
For all the rest that ran away.
But Ralpho now, in colder blood,
His fury mildly thus withstood:
Great Sir, quoth he, your mighty spirit
Is rais'd too high: this slave does merit
To be the hangman's bus'ness, sooner
Than from your hand to have the honour
Of his destruction: I that am
A nothingness in deed and name,
Did scorn to hurt his forfeit carcase,
Or ill intreat his fiddle or case:
Will you, great Sir, that glory blot
In cold blood, which you gain'd in hot?
Will you employ your conqu'ring sword,
To break a fiddle and your word?
For though I fought, and overcame,
And quarter gave, 'twas in your name.
For great commanders always own
What's prosperous by the soldier done.
To save, where you have pow'r to kill,
Argues your pow'r above your will;
Great conqu'rors greater glory gain
By foes in triumph led, than slain :
The laurels that adorn their brows
Th' honour can but on one side light,
As worship did when y' were dubb'd knight.
Wherefore I think it better far,
To keep him prisoner of war;
And let him fast in bonds abide
At court of justice to be try'd:
Where if h' appear so bold and crafty,
There may be danger in his safety :
If any member there dislike
His face, or to his beard have pique ;
Or if his death will save or yield,
Revenge or fright, it is reveal'd;
Though he has quarter, ne'ertheless
Y' have pow'r to hang him when you please;
This said, the high outrageous mettle
Of knight began to cool and settle.
He lik'd the squire's advice, and soon
Resolv'd to see the bus'ness done;
And therefore charg'd him first to bind
Crowdero's hands on rump behind,
And to its former place and use.
The wooden member to reduce;
But force it take an oath before,
Ne'er to bear arms against him more.
Ralpho dispatch'd with speedy haste,
And having ty'd Crowdero fast,
He
gave Sir Knight the end of cord,
To lead the captive of his sword
In triumph, whilst the steeds he caught,
And them to further service brought.
The squire in state rode on before,
And on his nut-brown whinyard bore
The trophy fiddle and the case,
Leaning on shoulder like a mace,
The knight himself did after ride,
Leading Crowdero by his side;
And tow'd him, if he lagg'd behind,
Like boat against the tide and wind.
Thus grave and solemn they march'd on,
Until quite through the town th' had gone;
At further end of which there stands
An ancient castle, that commands
Th' adjacent parts; in all the fabric
You shall not see one stone, nor a brick,
1130. The ancient castle seems to be referable to the shaded part of the moon as viewed with the north uppermost, in which position, beside the resemblance to a clench'd hand represented above in the Drawing of Magnano (fig. 19) as situate on the right and in light; there is likewise (in light also) just under Crowdero's fiddle and towards the place where his head might naturally come, the likeness of another hand in the attitude of pointing. The shoulders, head and breast of Talgol converge to a point like a spire, mentioned post in line 1161.
1132. Of the statement contained in this and the following lines I do not now offer any explanation: and if
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